Just Another Typical Day

I came into the office this morning and opened my safe. Before even getting the door open, I was hit with a wave of weed smell coming out. 

“Perfect,” I thought. Even my thoughts are sarcastic. I hate the smell of weed.

I work in a diamond dealer’s office, which is probably one of the sketchiest places a person can work. Apart from the constant keeping of paperwork to prove that you are not a money laundering agency, there’s cameras in every office, plenty of insurance fraud throughout the industry, and pretty much every other dirty underhanded trick in the book. Most of the industry is made up of religious Jewish people- many from Israel or Long Island. Almost everyone is in the industry because they grew up in it and their family runs the business. This only contributes to the sketchiness in most cases.

My boss and I are the only people who work at my office. I’ve been here about a year and a half and we’ve developed a good relationship. Not unlike the family run businesses, a certain amount of illegal activities and general sketchiness probably strengthens the bond. I’m a trustworthy employee with no moral qualms so long as no one is actually getting hurt. Therefore, an ideal partner in crime.

Yesterday my boss informed me that our mutual friend in the industry was coming over at 5 pm.

“Oh. Really? He’s coming here?” I had asked. Usually we met up with him and went to dinner or something.

 “Yeah. And the tech guy. We’re meeting a new dealer.”

Our old dealer had been caught recently and got in some trouble with the cops. He had supplied a number of ‘party favors’ for our Christmas party, which had ended in a strip club with my friend getting his first lap dance from a woman dressed as Santa Claus. 

“You know, I see the craziest shit I’ve ever seen in my life working here.”

“What? In this industry?”

“In this office. Specifically.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” my boss had said. “I’ve told you- we’re a ‘full service’ operation over here. The only thing we don’t do is prostitution.”

Apparently, we draw the line somewhere.